Annie claps her hands once and hops into the air. “Are you serious?!”
He grins his first real smile, her enthusiasm infectious. “Could be open again by Sunday. I’ll get my guys on it. You should know though, working on weekends is time and a half.”
“Good to know. Thank you. You can work through this weekend, but after that, weekdays only, please. Oh my God! This is so great! You guys will rebuild during the days, and we’ll open the bar at night. Perfect timing!”
“Oh, and you wanted a number for a surveillance guy?” They both pull out their phones. As she inputs the information, I’m staring at her face. I don’t want her dating that Christiano guy. What the fuck kind of name is that, anyway? And this guy was no child. That chest had hair on it, and that smile he had for her… FUCK!
I look away, scratching the stubble on my jaw, thinking about what to do.
“Have a good day now.”
I turn around and nod to Mr. Donovan. “You too.”
He leaves and Annie walks over to me, floating on air. “What a genius idea! Thank you! I can’t believe we get to open by Sunday!!!”
I smile, still squirming. “It’s great.”
Her blue eyes flicker as she tilts her head. “You okay?”
Glancing to the ground and then over to a wall, I nod slightly, not able to look at her. Who am I to make a claim on her? After all the egotistical things I’ve been saying – I don’t have girlfriends –I’ve got no leg to stand on. What an asshole I am.
“I just need some coffee.”
“You wanna go to Philz?”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I turn my head and look at her. Her eyes have a cloud hovering in them, and I did that. Here she is, getting good news about her bar, and I’m bringing her down. I walk to her, and kiss her on the nose. “Sorry. It’s just weird seeing everything.”
“Oh, right. Here I am so excited ---”
“---No! You should be excited. It’s just the coffee. I need some air and some java. That’s it.”
She smiles. The phone rings again and the devil is laughing in a cave somewhere, because it’s him; the shirtless man.
Without thinking, she lifts it up to look. We both stare at it. She looks up. “Um…”
I blurt out, louder than I want to, “Who is that guy?”
Annie blinks a few times and looks down at his picture. She sighs. “It’s my ex. He’s been trying to get a hold of me and I haven’t called him back yet.”
Relief relaxes my shoulders and I say on a deep exhale, “Your ex! Oh, thank God.”
Her ginger eyebrows rise and she cocks her head a little. “What?”
I take the phone from her, and turn off the ringing. “I thought it was someone you’re seeing now, as in still. An ex I can handle.”
She smiles slowly, figuring out that I was jealous. “You can handle an ex, huh?”
I grin at her, hugely relieved. “Yeah. An ex is an ex for a reason. He’s not really competition…” I wink at her. “…if I play my cards right.”
Her smile widens and she looks so beautiful, it’s like she’s glowing. “If you play your cards right?” She laughs.
More animated, I explain, “That’s right. I’ve got this. He won’t be but a memory. You just watch. That frown when he called? Gone.” Slicing my hand through the air like an escaping plane, I stick her phone in my pocket, and start walking to the door. Looking back, I see her watching me with a look that makes me stop in my tracks, like I’m some sort of hero. It makes me want to be one for her. My jokey cockiness vanishes and my hands fall to my sides. “Okay, Annie, I’m just going to come right out and say it.”
“Okay.” She walks up, waiting.
“I saw that guy and it drove me fucking crazy.”
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes on my lips as she asks, “It did? Are you normally the jealous type?”
On a sarcastic chuckle, I say, “Not at all.”
“Oh!” A small smile appears as she realizes what I’m trying to tell her.
“The way you look at me – no, it’s not just that. It’s being around you. I feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt. Give me those lips.” She bends her head up and I kiss her smile, whisper against it, my voice hoarse. “I don’t want anyone else touching you. You got that?”
A thousand thoughts pass over her eyes as she pulls away from me, staring up with a sort of awe. Is it love? I wouldn’t know. She slowly reaches up and touches my bottom lip. Something strange happens in my head as I feel her gentle fingertips. A strong Déjà vu feeling comes over me like this has happened before.
“Then I won’t let anyone touch me, Brendan, if that’s what you want.”
Struggling to remember, I stare at her. “There’s that familiar feeling again, like I’ve known you before, like this has happened before or something.”
She frowns and blinks up at me. My phone interrupts us and even though I would have ignored it, Annie pulls away and laughs. “Well, at least we had one night without an interruption.”
I grin, happier than I’ve been in a really long time. “We did have that! I guess that’s all we get.”
“Let’s go get some coffee.” She walks to her purse.
I pull out my phone, see Rebecca’s name and the words: I have something to tell you. Quickly I shove it back into my pocket. “How about we go see a movie? I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to be at work on a weekday.”
“Ooooo! Let’s! Who was that?”
“No one I want to talk to.”
We walk to the exit and she looks up, tilting her face for a quick kiss, which I’m more than happy to make long and slow. When I pull away, she’s breathless and her eyelashes take a second to drift up. “Wow.”
I walk out so she can lock the door. When I turn my head, I catch her looking at my ass. “I saw that.”
“I’m only human.” She smirks. “Philz, right?”
“Yup. Let’s walk. No, don’t even think it. I need the exercise and it’s just a few streets over.”
She holds up her hands after adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “I wasn’t making a peep!”
Rebecca
Clothes, Toothpaste, Makeup: in suitcase
Lace Lingerie: in trash
________
I walk to the front desk and look around. The place has definitely lost its charm. There’s an average-looking guy in his early twenties, working the desk today and thank God for that. I’m so ashamed of myself for yelling at that poor girl. I slept like shit, and then couldn’t wake up at my normal 7:00 a.m. The only thing that’s got my feet moving now is the desire to get to the hospital to tell Brendan what I found out.
“Here’s the key. And can you please give this to the woman who was working last night?” I hand the guy a hundred dollar bill. “Please put this in an envelope and tell her I’m sorry.”
His eyebrows come up and together. “Will do.”
“Thank you.” Grabbing the handle again of my suitcase, I turn my heels around and adjust the strap of the purse on my shoulder. Stopping, I turn and face him again. “Oh. Who has the best coffee in the area?”
He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Philz. You need the address?”
I nod, remembering Brendan and I going there on many of my weekend visits. “No. I’ve been there before. Thank you.”
Carting a rolling suitcase down a staircase is always a humiliatingly awkward and uncomfortable experience. Doing it after you’ve been through what I have, makes it ten times worse. Each clunky step feels like a deeper descent into unhappiness. Lifting the suitcase into the back of my SUV and closing the door, I catch my reflection in the window. How did I get here? How can I make this better? Thinking back to that phone call from the hospital telling me Brendan had been shot, if I’d have known what I would be going through, I would not have come.
But here I fucking am.
So I climb in the car and head to the hospital by way of one short stop for a
much needed latte. Maybe that will make me feel better.
Brendan
Finger: pointing to Knockout
________
“I’m going to talk to the guys here and see about getting them on board to help you.”
She looks at the neon sign hanging in the window that reads: NOPE.
“Does not bode well.”
I chuckle at the joke and give her hand a squeeze. “I’ve got your back. They’ll do it. I can be very persuasive.”
“Oh, I know. I got a great big dose of that when you talked me into letting you come clean up the bar, and look where that got you.”
“It got me here with you.” I hold her eyes for a second and she smiles. Suddenly, I remember an idea I had. “Oh - I thought of something, too. Take the charge out of what happened to the bar by naming drinks after it. What about The Gunshot?”
Annie’s face squishes up, but then she thinks about it and her face changes completely. “You know what? That’s genius.”
“And one called The Krav Maga… and… what else?”
Our hands swing as we walk. She’s staring ahead, fishing through her idea-maker for more. Her eyes light up. “How about Broken Glass? It could be a clear vodka/soda in a martini glass with crushed ice!”
I cock my head to the side, impressed. “I forgot you’re a mixologist.”
Puffing out her chest, she grins. “One of the best.”
“Ha! Okay, Boozy, what would The Krav Maga be?”
Without even pausing, she pulls out the recipe: “Bookers Bourbon, rocks. It’s 126 proof, so it knocks you on your ass. The ice is to help the bruising go down.” She smirks up at me. “What do you think?”
“Holy shit.”
Her comical cockiness vanishes into sweetness. “You really like it?”
I make a noise through my teeth, and nod. “The Gunshot?”
She nibbles her lip, looking at the sidewalk ahead of us. After about five or six steps, she frowns. “I don’t know about that one.”
“C’mon, Freckles, you can do it.”
She exhales and concentrates for the length of four shop-fronts, but finally shakes her head. “I’m stumped. You give it a shot.”
“Pun intended?” She rolls her eyes, but there’s an unguarded, wounded or scared look behind them that wasn’t there before. She’s such a strong, funny woman, it’s disarming to see her with that look in her eyes. It brings out the protector in me, big time. “It must have been pretty hard seeing me all bloody like that, huh?” She nods, frowning at the memory. “Hey, that’s why we do it, Annie. These drinks will be your biggest sellers because everyone will know that you took the memory of something bad and made it into something good.”
She nods. “I understand the concept, and I love it.” She looks down the way people do when they’re sharing something really personal. “I’ve even used it to get through some of my own things… but this one’s harder somehow. The Gunshot.” A shiver runs through her and she looks to me, hoping I’ll understand.”
I think about it for two whole seconds before I realize the way to help her is to do what she would do; she would make me laugh by throwing some curveball my way. So I give it my best shot. “Okay. How about a White Russian with grenadine and a cherry poured through the cream so it coagulates and looks like blood?”
She makes a face like she just smelled something awful and bursts out laughing. “Okay, that’s disgusting.”
“Says the girl who has a Mayan skull on her couch. And look at you, laughing at the disgusting drink. You’re sick and twisted, Freckles. Sick and twisted!”
Still laughing, she points a finger at me. “You’re the one who said it!”
I shrug, looking ahead like I don’t hear her. “The movie today?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Let’s do an action film. My staples are going to explode if we go see a comedy. You make me laugh too much as it is.”
“There can never be too much laughter. But I agree. No comedies.” As we walk up to Philz entrance, she says, with conviction, “And we’ve had enough drama.”
I step ahead, open the door. “Action then?”
She gives me a little bow. “Done!”
Rebecca
Nerves: shot.
Mind: planning.
All I Need: coffee.
________
Turning toward Folsom, I picture the cup of morning glory in my hand, how the heat will warm my fingers, how I’ll blow on the tasty liquid to cool it down, how I’ll close my eyes when it slides down my throat. Mmmmmm… so good. The thought alone is good enough to pull forth a relaxed smile from my bottomless pit of discontent, which is a miracle in and of itself. Which means: coffee = miracle.
Approaching 24th Street, I find a great parking spot, really close to Philz. Putting the car in park and sliding out my keys, I open the door, and start for the crosswalk, looking up at the lights to see which is red or green. Given the go, I head for Philz, my eyes on the sign above that reads Best Handmade Coffee rated by SF Weekly, framed by a bright green storefront, with people sitting on the wood bench to the right. I smile at them and walk into the cozy, casual space that looks like it could double for a youth hostel; mismatched chairs, blue ceiling, mixture of framed art and posters, a couch in front of the windows that’s probably always got people vying to sit there before anyone else takes it. The line is long today and I look around the few people standing in front of me, in order to gauge how long this might take.
My hearts stops beating.
I see Brendan’s profile looking down at a woman with strawberry blonde hair – HER. She turns her head and he kisses her, the light in his eyes bright, different, happy. A hollow feeling grows in my chest like someone’s filling a water balloon inside me, the heaviness of gravity taking it down as it expands. In slow motion I’m trying to breathe as he bends and whispers something into her ear. She lays the side of her head on his arm, and I take a step to my right so I can see better. They’re holding hands, and the balloon bursts inside me, the painful water spilling into all of my limbs.
Turn around, Rebecca.
Walk away.
The one person who was in front of them pays the cashier and steps aside to wait for their order, leaving Brendan and HER to step forward. Over the music and conversations, I can’t hear him, but I watch his lips move as he orders an Americano – what he always orders. Only I’m the one normally with him. He turns to look at HER as she orders from the cashier.
I watch him, and see something that takes away the last bit of hope I have in me. I can’t deny it anymore to myself that this is ever going to happen with him and me. I guess I always knew it would end.
That light that people have in them when they’re in love, it’s all over him. As she touches the light-colored wood counter, head tilted up to look at the chalkboard menu above, his hand is on her back. Every time she moves, he’s touching her with an intimacy and an ownership that I never experienced with him. And his eyes are filled with it.
But he doesn’t know she’s a liar.
Well, he’s about to find out.
10
Brendan
Fingers: Can’t stop touching her.
Heart: relaxed and happy.
________
“You want room in your Americano?” the cashier asks.
“No. It just gets in the way of my coffee.” Annie smiles and lets go of my hand to hold onto the counter and focus on the menu. I slip my fingers onto her lower back and lightly caress it, watching her face as she concentrates to decide.
“I want to try something different. How’s the Chai Latté?”
The cashier - a guy with shaggy brown hair who looks like he probably plays guitar in an alternative band – rolls his eyes to the ceiling in his efforts to describe it. “Do you like sweet or salty?”
Freckles looks at him. “I’m in the mood for sweet.”
“You’ll love it, then.” He smiles and she beams at him.
“Great.
Sign me up.”
With my free hand, I pull out my wallet and shake my head as she reaches for her purse. “I’ve got it.” She hesitates and smiles, thanking me by rising on her toes to give me a kiss. I’m pretty sure this is the best way to spend an afternoon ever, and I wonder, what have I been doing with my life, up until now? I throw a five into the tip jar, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the cashier. Annie looks at me like I’m a super hero and all it cost was five bucks.
We step aside to the left, nearer to the wall with the bulletin board where locals post their band flyers and business cards. Annie’s telling me how she should have asked if there was caffeine in the Chai because she needs some. I look up as someone enters the door of the building, a guy habit to always have an eye on the exit, and when I do, I catch the eyes of Rebecca staring at me, just a few people back in the line. The look on her face is cold and distant, like she’s a stranger and not someone I know very, very well. I glance down at Annie and back to Rebecca, wondering what’s about to happen. I can see an inevitable war.
Bracing myself, I reach out and take Annie’s hand, my eyes fixed over her head on the woman I’ve hurt, even though I really didn’t mean for this to happen.
“What’s wrong?” Annie asks me, worry creasing a line on her forehead.
“Rebecca’s here.”
She turns her head. They look at each other and Annie turns to me, stricken. Quiet, her eyes fall to a button on my shirt in front of her that she stays fixated on. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “Just hang on.”
Rebecca leaves the line, her eyes locked on mine, the pain in them killing me. She’s got that proud stance, but I know her better than that. I can see how badly I’ve hurt her, how she probably wants nothing better than to disappear into the ethers. But we all see each other. There’s no avoiding confrontation.
Rebecca’s eyelashes lower as she looks at Annie, at our hands held together, then back up to me. Annie turns and looks at her, but her body is close to mine, just where I want it.
Hearts Series Bundle: Books 1-6 Page 35